


We Both Knew Better (Didn't We?)

by mammothluv



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammothluv/pseuds/mammothluv
Summary: Jane Sloane is one of the last people Jacqueline expects to find when she opens her hotel room door.





	We Both Knew Better (Didn't We?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mangledgutspretending](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangledgutspretending/gifts).



Jane Sloane is one of the last people Jacqueline expects to find when she opens her hotel room door. Jacqueline is freshly showered and scrubbed of makeup but Jane is still gorgeously elegant in her dress from the event. 

Before the knock on the door, Jacqueline, clad in just the soft white hotel bathrobe had been well into her third glass of wine. It was an attempt to bring some desperately needed sleep and hopefully a fresh perspective on her problems by the next morning. 

Jacqueline should probably tell Jane to come back tomorrow or, at the very least, ask what she wants but she’s so tired of second-guessing her every move. She steps back and holds the hotel room door open in invitation.

Jane takes the invitation. She steps through the doorway and she’s just clumsy enough as she kicks off her heels at the entryway that Jane suspects she’s had a few drinks as well. She stumbles slightly on the second shoe, grasping onto Jacqueline’s shoulder for balance. 

All too soon, she corrects herself, pulls the hand back quickly. Looking at Jacqueline like she’s fearing a reprimand. And, in another situation, Jacqueline might enjoy it, let the silence drag out between them a little longer before letting Jane off the hook. But tonight she offers Jane a reassuring smile and heads in the direction of her bedside table.

“Wine?” she asks. 

When Jane doesn’t answer, Jacqueline turns her head to look at her, seeing Jane’s eyes travel from the rumpled bed and back to Jacqueline. 

“Were you already in bed? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” she begins.

But Jacqueline waves a hand dismissively.

“I wouldn’t have fallen asleep anyway and, honestly, I’m glad for the company. Have a seat,” she adds while gesturing to the sofa that sits on the opposite wall from the bed.

Jane sits, carefully arranging her dress and tucking her bare feet underneath her on the couch. 

“Yes,” Jane says. “Yes, to the wine if you’re still offering.” 

Jacqueline nods, grabbing a clean glass from the hotel service tray and pouring as she asks, “What brings you here, Jane?” 

“I’m not sure,” Jane answers. Jacqueline doesn’t think that’s quite true but she decides not to push. Not just yet anyway. 

“Hmmm…” Jacqueline nods. “Your piece was brilliant,” she says. “You should be proud, Jane. I am.” She wonders if Jane can hear the edge of guilt in her words.

She walks toward the couch and hands Jane her glass of wine, watches her take a sip and then sits on the opposite end of the couch from her. Jane shifts forward incrementally, directing her body toward Jacqueline.

“Thank you,” Jane says. “Not just for what you said, for running it. I know you didn’t think it was the best time.”

Jacqueline can taste the regret rising in her own throat. 

“I shouldn’t have hesitated in the first place. You don’t need to thank me, Jane.” 

“Why did you? Hesitate, I mean?” Coming from someone else, the question might have made Jacqueline defensive but Jane’s voice is gentle and curious. Jacqueline doesn’t trust a lot of people right now but she trusts the young woman sitting before her implicitly. 

“I lost sight of… a lot of things,” Jacqueline answers. “I lost sight of what makes Scarlet extraordinary. It’s writers like you and pieces like that one.” 

Jacqueline sees the heat rising up from Jane’s chest to her cheeks, a light pink blush that makes Jacqueline forget the worries she was attempting to drink away earlier as she admires the trail it takes along Jane’s normally pale skin. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to write it without you,” Jane says earnestly. She scoots closer again, looking directly at Jacqueline as she speaks likes she wants to make sure Jacqueline hears her. 

“I don’t think that’s true but thank you, Jane. It’s a nice thing to hear tonight.” 

“I admit, I was surprised when I saw you’d published it. After our conversation, I thought…”

“If I’m going to go out, I want to go out having published that piece.” 

“Go out?” Jane repeats, confusion clear in her tone. 

Jacqueline could kick herself. She doesn’t want this night to turn into a pity party. 

It’s that moment that she admits to herself she definitely wants the night to turn into something and she takes a deep breath to stop her rising heart. 

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, Jane. Just board politics. I’ve survived worse and landed on my feet.” 

The look on Jane’s face tells Jacqueline that her words aren’t as convincing as she had hoped. 

“Tell me,” Jane says forcefully. And Jacqueline gets a glimpse of that tough reporter she admires so much. Not the soft gentle Jane that had interviewed Jacqueline for her award-winning piece but the tenacious Jane, the Jane that reminds Jacqueline a little of herself. 

“There are rumors,” Jacqueline explains, knowing it’s useless to evade Jane now that her reporter's instincts have been awakened. “The board wants a fresh perspective at Scarlet. They think I’ve lost touch with the younger crowd or just lost my touch.” Jacqueline focuses on the painting above the couch, a take on the Pont des Arts bridge in deep purples and blues. She fears seeing agreement in Jane’s eyes, even if Jane won’t voice it. 

“They can’t get rid of you,” Jane protests. The words come out in almost a growl. The sound tugs at something primal in Jacqueline. And maybe Jane feels a pull too because she’s moving even closer to Jacqueline now, almost fully on the center cushion of the couch. Some of her wine splashes onto her dress and she brushes at it. Jacqueline stills her own hand, resisting the urge to reach out and help. 

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re right,” Jacqueline says. Words tumble out, easier to say than confronting the reality of wanting to reach out for Jane’s hand, still wiping at her dress, take it in her own. Jacqueline shakes her head in an attempt to clear it. “I have made some missteps. The comments debacle, the…”

“You can’t be serious,” Jane interrupts. “Everyone makes mistakes but you, you’re…” 

Jacqueline looks at Jane expectantly. It’s an unsettling role reversal. Jane’s usually looking at her for reassurance. 

“You’re the heart of Scarlet,” Jane finishes. And Jacqueline’s heart lurches upward in her chest and breaks a little at the same time. 

“I don’t know if I am anymore,” Jacqueline says. “You, Kat, Sutton, Alex, you’re the beating heart. I’m just…”

Jane doesn’t let her finish. 

“You’re the reason we’re all here. I mean not here in Paris. Well, technically sort of. I mean,” Jane lets out a huff of frustration then starts again. “What I’m saying is, you keep us going. You keep me going.” Jane grabs Jacqueline’s hand. Pulls herself still closer to Jacqueline in the process. “I mean it when I say I wouldn’t have written that piece without you. You made me brave, Jacqueline. You made me take chances. And I’m a better writer and a better person because of it.” 

And the last thread of Jacqueline’s restraint unravels in that moment. 

Jane’s knees are brushing against her thigh now and Jane is leaning forward looking at Jacqueline with such wide-eyed belief in her. 

Jacqueline sets her glass on the table beside the sofa carefully. Jane’s almost frozen in place, eyes locked on Jacqueline like she’s just realized the moment they’re in. Jacqueline reads Jane’s rapid breaths as anticipation, hopes she isn’t wrong and closes the gap between them. 

Jane's lips are warm and wine tinted and before Jacqueline can pull away, look at Jane to gauge her reaction, Jane has her fingers in Jacqueline’s hair, pulling her tighter and deepening the kiss. Jacqueline hums in satisfaction and Jane appears to take that as an invitation, shifting until she’s on Jacqueline’s lap, a knee on either side of Jacqueline. And then Jane is all heat and needy hands and fingers pulling and Jacqueline can do nothing but respond in kind, her fingers trailing up the soft skin of Jane’s thigh. 

Jacqueline pulls back. Forces the rush from her head. 

“I just want you to know, I know I’m your boss and the power dynamics here are…”

“Complicated?” Jane supplies. She wriggles impatiently in Jacqueline’s lap which makes the next part harder to say but no less necessary. 

“I want you to know that that you can walk out that door right now if that’s what you want and it won’t impact your job or our working relationship.” Jacqueline makes sure her words are firm and clear. 

Jane grasps her chin making sure they have direct eye contact. 

“I know you mean that. But I want this,” she says. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Are you?” Jane says, suddenly seeming almost shy. “I mean you are…”

“Married? My husband and I have, an arrangement.” 

“How very modern woman of you. What happens in Paris stays in Paris?” Jane asks, a hint of teasing in her words.

“Not exactly and I’m certain that saying only applies to Vegas.”

Jane waves her hand in the air as if dismissing the entire notion. “We’re too fabulous for Vegas. And... were in Paris now. Tonight.” 

Well in that case, “ce qui se passe à paris reste à paris,” Jacqueline agrees. 

Jane bites her lip. “I am so sure right now,” she says, voice coming out low and rough. 

Jacqueline laughs, satisfied that, if this is a mistake, it’s at least one they’re both interested in making. She stands slowly, links her fingers with Jane’s and tugs them both in the direction of the bed. 

“You know,” Jane says. “If you’re still uncomfortable with the power dynamics. I could take charge.” 

“Do you think you can?” Jacqueline teases, drawing herself up just a little higher and looking down at Jane like they’re in the conference room and Jane has failed to answer one of her rapid-fire questions. 

Jane advances, turns them slightly until Jacqueline has no choice but to fall back on the bed. Within seconds, Jane is on top of her. 

“I suppose we’re about to find out,” Jane says.


End file.
